Edge of Heaven
by amislee
Summary: Before the second war in heaven, Raphael and Rociel investigate a haunted house on Assiah.
1. Default Chapter

You're tired to the bone. 

Being a candidate is harder than you've ever expected. Perhaps you would have been more willing to endure hardships and drudge work if your superiors (and you think of this word with a guilty resentment, because you've hardly seen any signs of spiritual or moral superiority in any of your supervisors) would lower themselves enough to treat you like a sentient being. Instead, you feel like a worker drone, a clockwork servant.

You're really tired, and you trudge down the endless corridors with a bowed head and heavy step, but as you turn the corner (one of many corners - sometimes you think that this is all there is, a Heaven of corners), you come upon Him. You sense the warmth of His presence even before you see Him, before you lift your eyes slowly as if to behold a great light. Instantly your petty complaints of before are forgotten; you want nothing more than to go home.

He is talking to another angel, a blond-haired man of similar height, who stands as if he is simultaneously lounging and posing for some hidden artist. You recall his name from glimpses and casual mentions - Raphael-sama. They are discussing something of some importance, you can tell from the severity in Rociel-sama's expression. He holds Himself erect as always, hands at His side, long, slender fingers curled slightly.

After a last exchange of words, Raphael-sama inclines his head and turns to leave. He walks towards where you're standing a respectful distance away. As he passes you by, he looks down at you and smiles a little. "Katan," he says, and you're surprised that he knows your name. He ruffles your hair carelessly and you have to smile and endure it. "Waiting for your Rociel-sama, eh?"

"Raphael-sama," you manage in the most respectful tone you can muster. He is gone at last, and you turn to look at Rociel-sama who hasn't moved but is looking at you with a smile on His beautiful face. You feel something strangely like relief, as if you've been buried underground and have only just managed to resurface.

As both of you start walking down the corridor (which is still endless, but bearable now that He is with you), He asks you about your day and you tell Him, trying to think of things that He might be especially interested in and leaving out your feelings of dissastisfaction because, really, now that you think about it, what ever have you been dissatisfied about?

And after a while, you venture to ask, "But, Rociel-sama, how was _your_ day?"

He is silent for a few moments, and when He answers, His voice is quiet and slightly baffled as if He's trying to work something out in His mind. "The past few days have been - strange."

"Strange, Rociel-sama?"

He nods, and strands of His hair flutter like captive silver and azure butterflies about His face. You want to reach up and hold them for Him, but you're not tall enough. "Have you heard, Katan - surely you must have heard, every angel and their grandmother's cat was talking about it - about the haunted house on Assiah?"

"A haunted house on Assiah?" you repeat, rather stupidly.

He looks at you askance, then realizes that your ignorance is no joke. He raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Katan, the most dedicated Candidate Beriah has ever seen!"

You blush at His teasing, and mutter, "Rociel-sama..." You are still walking down the corridors. Briefly you wonder if He has a destination in mind. Your defective imagination throws up an absurd image of you and Rociel-sama wandering the corridors until the end time is come... the both of you have lost yourselves in the twists and turns and unexpected corners, and when you finally emerge, the big conflagaration is over and whatever is destined to happen has happened. God will descend upon his most beloved Angel and demand, "Where were you when the end time was at hand?" And you will screw up all your courage and divert God's wrath from Rociel-sama and you will say to God, "We got lost, Lord..."

"Katan, you have the most curious expression on your face," Rociel-sama remarks, and you are jolted awake from your silly dream. You cannot imagine that your face can get any redder than it is. "Tell me about the haunted house on Assiah, Rociel-sama," you hurriedly request.

At the request, He becomes contemplative again, frowning a little. "Are you sure you want to hear it, Katan?"

"Yes, Rociel-sama."

He seems lost in thought for a few more moments, but presently shakes His head. "It was nothing, I suppose. But it _is_ a strange little story..."

_Seven days ago_

Haunted houses (or castles, ships, schools, and even toilets in some cases) on Earth are admittedly a penny a dozen. Their origins may be earthly or otherwise. None, however, have caused such a disturbance among the heavenly host, resulting in flocks of angels neglecting their posts and congregating upon the geographical location in question, until the matter was finally brought to the attention of The Inorganic Angel almost the moment he had removed himself from Etenamenki. Upon his command, the astral skies above the large, shabby, broken-down house were cleared of all celestial beings, save a few lost Grigori who had been drawn to the psychic anomaly and now fluttered confusedly about the rooftops.

"Psychic anomaly" was Zaphikiel's term for the haunted house.

"It's those _bastards_ in _Hell_, they've got something to do with it, I just _know_ it!" was Mikael's furious assertion as he slammed the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. Those watching had no doubt whose head the owner of the fist wished it was bashing.

"Why don't you fly down there and ask them, Mika-chan?" Raphael suggested from his reclining position on a swivel chair.

Mikael's eyes gleamed at the prospect of causing random and mass destruction in Lucifer's realm even though its ruler had been absent for many years.

Rociel rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers and said, "That is not a solution" the same moment Jibrille said, "It is not a demonic phenomenon." The council fell silent at these quiet pronouncements.

It was Zaphikiel who broke the ominous silence. "Any angel worth his wings has felt it. The Power emanating from that house. And Jibrille is right, it is not demonic in origin. That would be - blasphemy, wouldn't it?"

"I am _just_ saying," Mikael began in aggrieved tones, "That I would not put it _past_ those _creatures_ to come up with a _trick_ like this-"

"Yes," Zaphikiel said, unruffled by the interruption, "However, I doubt that is the case here. How about it, Rociel-sama," and he turned towards the quiet figure at the head of the table. "Rociel-sama, you who are the closest to our Creator. _Is it God's presence that we have sensed in the house on Assiah?_"

Another silence befell the angelic council, all heads turned toward Rociel, who remained staring calmly at his hands folded on the table before him, his features cold and distant as always. He was silent for so long that the other angels started to move restlessly, and Mikael opened his mouth twice to make a comment probably in support of his "Destroy now, ask questions later" policy, but was both times restrained by Raphael's hand on his arm.

Finally Rociel said quietly and evenly, "God is not in that house."

Something like relief rippled through the ranks of angels present, as if a collective breath has been released. None truly believed that the Creator dwelled in a haunted house on Earth, but there had been doubts. Jibrille said, ever the clear-thinking, rational one, "But how is the emanation to be explained away then? Do you not agree, Rociel, that what is in that house, the - the energy it gives out, if you will, bears such an uncanny resemblance to the presence of God that even angels, who _know_ that He is in Etenamenki, are deceived?"

"God dwells in the Tower of Etenamenki," Rociel said, tonelessly as if he was reciting from scripture. "He has not left Atziluth for hundreds of years. No angel, except myself, my sister and the Serafita, has laid eyes upon His Radiance for as long." He looked at Jibrille. "But you are right, Angel of Water. This - phenomenon bears investigating." He stood, and all assembled came to their feet as well. "I will go to Assiah, and look with my own eyes this marvel of earthly construction."

Amael, an angel assigned as Rociel's protector, protested, "To confront this strangeness that has never been recorded in the memory of any angel, _alone_, Rociel-sama..."

"Allow me to accompany Rociel," Raphael interjected, "I, too, am fascinated by this."

"Very well," Rociel said dismissively, "Jibrille, Uriel and Mikael will oversee things in Heaven while we are gone."

The flight to Assiah was quick and silent, two angels on a downward spiral from Beriah, feathered wings held flat against their back. Rociel seemed withdrawn and Raphael did not feel inclined to make small talk. When they reached the earthly stratosphere above the house, they slowed and Rociel pulled away from their synchronized flight. He held out his hand, palm up, and the little flickering lights of confused Grigori gathered about him like luminescent butterflies.

"Go home," he told them, and they stayed around him for a few moments before flying away. He turned and landed on the ground, without looking to see if Raphael followed.

They retracted their wings and approached the ancient house, looking up at its crumbling edifice. Raphael closed his eyes briefly. "I cannot sense any presence from within the house or its vicinity," he said. "There's nothing here." Rociel started to step forward, toward the big oak doors, but Raphael put a hand on his arm to halt him. Rociel stopped, but looked at his hand and Raphael removed it. "I'm the angel of healing, and I'm telling you, Rociel, there's no sign of life in the house at all. Not even a rodent. Or an insect. In fact..." he lifted his head and looked around them, "There's nothing living in a ten-mile radius."

Rociel lifted an eyebrow at him. "Except us."

Raphael glanced at his cool expression and could not tell if that was humor. "Except us," he agreed. He jerked his head towards the house. "Don't you think it's suspicious?"

Rociel placed his hand on the ornate handles. "Perhaps," he said, as the doors swung open, "this is an immaculate house."

_I'll have to remember,_ Raphael thought as a passageway was revealed to them, stretching into pitch black, _that the Inorganic Angel_ _likes to crack jokes with a perfectly straight face._ Rociel preceded him into the house, which felt to Raphael strangely like some great sleeping beast, the doors its jaws and the corridor a tract leading to its bowels. When he stepped in, _something_ hit him in a rush, and he felt as if he had drowned for a moment before breaking the surface and taking in great big gulps of air.

Rociel looked back at him curiously. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said, a little breathless. "Just... the air is quite musty in here."

"I suppose nobody had set foot in here for a while," the other angel remarked.

"Like I said... not even a spider." Raphael glanced at Rociel out of the corner of his eyes. Both angels emitted a faint light from their being, and in that meager illumination, he could see that Rociel looked as calm and collected as ever, but he couldn't help but notice that his lips were pressed in a severe line and there was a strained look to his eyes.

"Not even a spider," Rociel repeated, slowly. "Yet there is divinity here. You do not sense it?"

"What are you talking about?" Raphael extended his senses again. "There's nothing. Not even - not even air. It's like a tomb in here."

"It's not as if we need to breathe," Rociel said absently, as he moved towards the dark. Raphael followed, and they navigated the corridor carefully. After a while, it seemed clear to Raphael that the corridor was longer than was possible, given the size of the house, unless they had been walking in circles. It was not altogether dark, though. Small square windows let in the late afternoon sunlight in little pools before the darkness swallowed everything up again.

"We're walking in circles," Raphael said flatly.

"We are not." They stopped. There was a closed door to their left. Rociel reached out and opened it. Raphael stood beside him, feeling strange and almost light-headed as the door opened on a bedroom. There was a high, ornate bed, tables and chairs, and a dead fireplace, and everything was covered in a white filmy material as if to ward off the dust. There was a scrabbling sound, and Raphael started. He looked down to see a shiny black beetle scurry out between their feet.

"I thought you said there was no lifeform here," Rociel said mildly.

Raphael glared at him briefly, feeling irritated. "There wasn't!" But he could feel the little living beetle as it disappeared down the passageway. "I think..." He looked at the bedchamber again, at the splash of red bedcovers underneath the white shroud. "I think, perhaps... it was not prudent after all, to come here like this. A team of scientists seem more suited to this. Or, Mikael would be more than happy to torch the place down."

Rociel turned to him with a slight smile. "Torch down this strange attractor of angels and Grigori, without finding out its secrets?"

For a strange, dizzying moment Raphael forgot about the fast disappearing pulsing life of the beetle and could only stare at the smiling angel in front of him. _They say, that the countenance of the Serafita is so radiant that to gaze upon it is to bathe in the divine light of the Creator,_ he thought, _But perhaps... perhaps he is not as beautiful as you._ He shook his head to clear it of such strange, forbidden thoughts and said, "Sometimes secrets should stay buried."

The smile faded. "Yes." Rociel closed the door and turned away. "Let us go on."

It did not take them long to come to a second door. The door was identical to the first one, plain and nondescript with a simple brass knob. Rociel barely paused before walking on. "There's nothing in here," he said dismissively. "Only an empty room."

It was on the tip of Raphael's tongue to ask him how he could be so certain, but he was already disappearing fast in the gloom ahead and Raphael quickened his pace to follow. The passage they were in had changed subtly. There were no more windows; instead, the long stretch of bare wall was interrupted occasionally by large, gilded paintings. Raphael could only see shadows framed by the wavy lines of gilt, faint suggestions of shapes. He summoned a small globe of light to his hand and peered more closely at the paintings when they came across them again. This one was of a tropical paradise, some verdant jungle with emerald foliage and bulbous fruit pulsing with life. Two beasts were coupling savagely on the ground, half-hidden by the undergrowth. Raphael stopped walking and looked closer, finding the suggestion of a hand, a five-fingered appendage... a mammalian breast, an eye...

He stepped back, startled, though he couldn't find a reason for his disquiet. They were not animals, but humans...

He turned and looked ahead into the musty gloom. The other angel had stopped at what appeared to be another door. Raphael could see that it was not closed like the others, but left slightly ajar. Nothing but ink black could be seen from the opening. Raphael approached Rociel and the door, and as he did, a gust of air seemed to waft from nowhere that he could see, and suddenly he could breathe again. He saw Rociel lift his hand to push the door the rest of the way back. He lifted his own hand and saw it touch Rociel's wrist.

"Wait," he said.

There was a touch on his wrist. He turned, and saw what appeared to be a vast cavern. He blinked, and the cavern receded into the proportions of a large room. There had to be four walls to make up a room, he presumed, but he could only see the far wall with nothing on either side of it, and there was an echoing darkness at his back that signified space. A very large room, perhaps, he amended. A pale white light, just enough to illumine the edges of things, filled a small space against the far wall. He could make out, in that small space, a workbench, some pieces of wood, the jagged teeth of a metal instrument, among others.

There was also a man there, using the tools in what seemed to be carpentry.

He stood watching the man, listened to the mundane and bizarre sound of sawing wood. His hand lifted uncertainly to hover over the region of his heart. He felt an inexplicable fear, a slow thudding fear as if he was a little child and the soft slithery footsteps of a monster had paused outside his door. He shook his head, taking a step back. He had never been that child. He had never been a child, ever.

And he refused to be afraid. "You-" he managed, before sudden darkness obscured his vision, his perfect angel vision, and a gnarled hand, a claw, a five-fingered appendage seemed to melt from the darkness and reached for him. _This is a nightmare,_ he thought, frozen,_ a waking dream, this is what it is. I'm not there, I'm on Assiah, I'm not there... what if I'm still there, and yes this is a dream and I'm still there and someone save me I'm going to wake up._

He felt a strange warmth against his face and when he looked again, the man was still sawing wood but he had looked up, at him, and he was smiling.

"You... How did you..."

"I did not do that," said the man, finally leaving off the sawing. "It was _your_ nightmare, Rociel." He walked towards the angel, and Rociel saw that he was a perfectly ordinary-looking human, bearded, in workclothes dusted with wood shavings.

He did not retreat another step, and he did not unfurl his wings, but his hands clenched at his sides and he said, coldly, "Do not come any nearer. Who are you?"

The man stopped, obligingly. "Didn't you come here to find me?" he asked. He gestured at the workbench and the tools. "To answer your question, I'm a carpenter. I make things. These pieces of wood here... they're the material I work with. See them? They don't have a definite shape, no organized physical structure, really. I make them into chairs, mostly. I like chairs."

"Did you make the effigy that we - that we - we saw?" Rociel placed a hand on his forehead. What was he saying? They had not seen any effigies.

But the man - the carpenter - was shaking his head. "No," he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "I make useful things. Effigies are pretty much useless, aren't they? You can't sit on them."

"Who are you? Raphael - Raphael said he did not sense any living thing..."

He shrugged. "Raphael has his own nightmares. He'll be all right. But will you be all right, most radiant of angels?"

"You... Stop speaking in riddles!" He _hated_ this fear, this inability to _think_... "Who are you!"

The man was suddenly within touching distance, though he had not seen him move. He was going _mad_... "I'm not your Creator," the man said, solemnly. "Do not be afraid, beautiful child."

He couldn't help it. He started laughing. "No," he managed between bursts of uncontrollable laughter, "No, you - certainly are not! What you are is - is _blind_."

The man lifted his hands, big hands, Rociel noticed dazedly, broad palm and thick fingers, a hand like that could close around his throat and squeeze until his windpipe was crushed and possibly, possibly he could die. Those hands cupped his face and he was so surprised that he held still and let himself be touched. The man was still smiling as he said, "I'm not the one who cannot see. Effigies matter not to me. We were all children once. Your kind... are the most pitiful children of all. You're still blindly trying to find your way out of the storm, all of you." This close, his eyes were like the ocean. Or perhaps the open sky. "And you... poor, lost, beautiful child... your father has not been kind to you."

He wrenched himself from the man's loose grip and backed away rapidly. "Stay away," he hissed, a hand held out to ward him off. "I don't know who you are, or what you are, but you know nothing. You know nothing! Do not follow." He turned and ran into the darkness.

"It's not too late," the man said, behind him, and he almost wanted to laugh again. He could not see anything in the pitch black, but he knew that the pale white light was receding behind him until it was no more. He stumbled, and unfurled his wings in a reflex action to balance himself. He fell all the same, and felt cool stone on his back. He blinked, and saw a worried face looking down at him.

"Raphael?" His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears.

"You're awake," Raphael said in relief. "It gave me a shock, when you just passed out like that. Are you all right?"

"What-" He stopped himself before he could ask anymore stupid questions. He took a few moments to orient himself. He was lying on cool stone. Raphael was leaning over him, the fingers of one hand on the inside of his wrist, as if he could feel his pulse. It was a stone bier he was lying on. "Tell me what happened," he requested.

The other angel seemed reassured by his calm tone. "You were about to open the door. I - I can't explain why now, but at that time I told you to wait, and restrained you. And you just... fell unconscious. I opened the door myself and carried you in here. I could not tell what was wrong with you. I even tried to use my healing powers to wake you, but to no effect. You had been unconscious for - about two hours, I think."

Rociel tried to sit up, but he was hit by a wave of vertigo and had to abandon the attempt. This was unacceptable! He should not be susceptible to these human frailties, physical and otherwise. "Raphael," he said, slowly, "Do you still sense nothing?"

Raphael shook his head. "I'd been sitting around for two hours waiting for you to wake up. I haven't sensed anything. No life, no presence, divine or no. I guess that beetle must have had a very short lifespan." It was a weak attempt at humor, and perhaps it would have been more convincing if his eyes had not been shadowed with doubt. "What about you, Rociel. Can you still feel the Creator's presence here?"

Rociel stared at the ceiling for a few silent moments. "Yes," he whispered, finally. His right hand lifted and hovered shakily as if it was unsure what to do, then sank back to his side.

Raphael let out a breath. "This is futile," he said, sounding frustrated. "We should return to heaven. I think that team of scientists is beginning to sound like a really good idea. _I_ certainly cannot make sense of this." He looked at Rociel, his eyes almost anxious. "And if... something here is dangerous, I don't think we can afford to risk the life of the ruler of heaven."

Rociel tried to sit up again. "God is the ruler of heaven. And as for risk to my person, I don't think you have need to worry." However, even as he spoke, his vision seemed to go entirely white for a moment, and he must have winced, because Raphael's hands were on him again and when his vision cleared, Raphael's face was very close to his own. The elemental angel's blue eyes were concerned, and... shadowed with a darker emotion. Rociel said, very quietly, "What are you doing, Raphael?"

Raphael tilted his head ever closer, his eyes half-closed, the movement seemingly almost involuntary. "I've always..." he murmured, heavily, as if the words were dragged out of him, "... wanted..."

Rociel braced a hand on his chest and pushed him off with minimal effort. Raphael stumbled backwards. "I will forget this ever happened," Rociel said, in a voice like ice. Raphael nodded, numbly, and seemed about to apologize, but Rociel got to his feet and beckoned him to follow him out the room.

They went back the way they came. Raphael had his lit globe out because he had just about enough of the oppressive gloom. In the weak light, the shapes in the paintings seemed to twist and cavort in silent frenzy. He looked at the paradisic jungle as he walked past. He didn't know how he could have thought the two figures were human. He could see clearly now the filmy white wings rising from their backs. They were not human at all.

_-TBC-_


	2. Chapter 2: end

They retraced their steps, and were silent. Raphael remained a pace behind the other angel, his step and his heart heavy. What had he almost done? Worse, what had he acknowledged? Deep in dark recriminations, he almost ran into the object of his thoughts, as Rociel had stopped outside the second door.

"What is it?" Raphael asked, dully. "You said this was an empty room."

But Rociel was staring at the closed door, a strange expression on his face. _A lovely face,_ whispered Raphael's treacherous mind. _Nothing like Alexiel's. He is nothing like Alexiel._ He remembered Alexiel as she was, before their Creator had commanded her to remain for ever in the Garden of Eden, never to leave. Cold and beautiful, like a winter storm. Only when she had looked at her twin brother had Raphael ever seen anything warm in her eyes. _You are cold, too. But there is something inside you... something in your eyes, that is... kind, and sad... and I... I..._

Raphael realized that Rociel was saying something, softly under his breath. "Fear... and desire..." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. His shoulders were slumped in tiredness, or defeat. Raphael stepped closer, worry creasing his brow. The other angel had never before been so transparent in his emotions, and in spite of himself, Raphael felt concern.

He spoke his name softly and Rociel lifted his head. He gestured at the door. "Open it."

Raphael opened the door. It was, indeed, empty. He moved past Rociel to stand on the threshold. On the far wall, directly opposite the doorway, was a black veil.

He stood still, gazing at the veil. He was drawn to it. He felt that he could not look away. He took three steps into the empty room, and stopped. It was difficult to stop. He found himself asking, forcing the words past a mouth that did not want to move, "What is behind the veil?"

"An effigy," Rociel answered. Raphael did not realize that he had moved to stand so close behind him. "Of - God. Perhaps. Would you like to worship there?" Raphael could feel cool breath on the nape of his neck, stirring the strands of his hair. He shivered. Rociel's voice had sounded strange. He heard something almost like regret in it, but perhaps he was mistaken. He had never seen the face of God. He moved forward. It was the desire of every angel to gaze upon the Creator, to know if they had indeed been created in His image. He lifted his hand, reverently, to draw aside the veil.

"Raphael." Rociel's voice was soft, but Raphael stopped. His eyes were fixed on the blackness, and Rociel's soft, slow voice reached his ears like a caress, like tendrils winding around him. "Do you wish to fulfill your heart's desire? Our Father would not approve, you know... We are to adore One, and One only. Yet... He made us the way we are. Do you wish to fulfill your heart's desire?"

And Raphael turned. It was no longer unending black that filled his vision, but Rociel, standing in the middle of the room, arms hanging limply at his sides. And Raphael took a step forward, away from the veil, because he had thought that Rociel was more beautiful than the Serafita, he had thought Rociel more beautiful than the Creator's light.

A few slow steps and their bodies were almost touching, a hair's breadth away. Rociel murmured, "He would not approve," as Raphael's hands came up to frame his face. In sudden urgency, Raphael bent his head and kissed him. He had kissed a human once, just to know what it was like. This was nothing like kissing a human. This was cold and electric. He felt Rociel's smile against his mouth, and Rociel parted his lips. And then it was like kissing a human, hot and wet, and yet it was not. Raphael felt light-headed. He felt that he was falling.

They had moved, without knowing it, so that Rociel's back was against the wall. Raphael's entire body was pressed against his, as if he was trying to crawl into his skin, as if they were trying to become one being, and not two. Raphael's hand moved to the nape of his neck, and down his spine, caressing, desperate.

For once in his existence, Raphael needed to breathe. He felt as if he was drowning and he wanted to surface for a breath of air, only a breath. But he didn't want to sever the connection between them, he wanted, if it was possible, for the kiss to go on for ever. Rociel's mouth was warm, almost human, and he tasted of - of himself, something even stranger than angel, something inorganic and incomprehensible and pure. Raphael knew he was getting closer, he was getting closer to _something_, he knew it, if only he had a moment more, and a moment more, and a moment more...

Dimly he felt the other angel's hands on his shoulders, pushing him away, not ungently, but his thoughts were suddenly a whirlwind of panic and desperation. _Wait, please, wait... _He could not help a soft sound of regret as they separated, and he was, again, only himself. He was breathing heavily, and Rociel was looking at him, searching his face for something he did not know what.

"You chose this," Rociel said, in that soft voice, and Raphael whispered _yes_ and he wanted to say that he would choose this, again and again. Rociel gazed past him, and Raphael knew that he was looking at the black veil. Raphael touched his hair, reverently. He did not care about the blackness of the veil now. He ran his fingers through the silver strands, thinking that there was nothing dark about it, it was like touching light, nothing but light. "This is free will," Rociel whispered.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them he was looking at Raphael. "I am sorry," he said, placing a cool hand on Raphael's forehead. Raphael felt unreasonably warm, and his eyes fluttered close. "Listen to me," Rociel whispered, in his ear, and there was something furtive about it, something almost fearful. But the hand that remained on his forehead was steady and strangely reassuring. "Our Father is a wrathful God. He cannot bear His children to have strange desires for each other..." Raphael struggled to remain aware against a wave of lethargy that seemed to be wrapping around him in a cocoon. He was dimly cognizant of the fact that Rociel was responsible for this, Rociel had _done_ something to him, and Rociel was saying, "... But you will remember that you are free."

_What have you done!_ Raphael wanted to demand, but for a strange, terrible moment, he knew that he had no mouth, no arms or legs or face, and there was nothing of him except a tiny consciousness floating in a sea of white. And then sensation came back and he sucked in a desperate breath.

"You're awake."

Raphael opened his eyes. Zaphikiel was looking down at him, a clipboard in his hand and impersonal curiosity in his expression. Raphael did not need to look around to know that he was in heaven. There was something in the air that was - distinctly heavenly. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Are you all right?" Zaphikiel continued.

"Yes." Raphael sat up. He felt fine. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us. Rociel-sama said that you lost consciousness a few moments after you went into the house on Assiah. He brought you back to Beriah and ordered that the house be destroyed. Mikael is probably carrying that out as we speak. What do you remember?"

"I..." Raphael suddenly wanted to bring his hand to his forehead, but he controlled the gesture. What _did_ he remember? "Nothing," he said, slowly. As he spoke, he breathed in the clean and sterile air and found himself relaxing at the safe familiarity of it. "I remember nothing."

------

_1999_

Honestly, you never thought that it would come to this.

Heaven was a mess of political strife and backstabbing and sheer violence, and you thought, with a steady faith, that he would be able to put things right again. After all, everything degenerated after the war, after he'd gone and the seat of power was left empty and tempting.

And so you woke him up.

The thing is... the _thing_ is, you missed him. You had gone on century after century without him, and that was a kind of torture that you had no words to describe. Heaven was empty without him, and you were empty too, and in your heart of hearts, wasn't that why you searched for him and woke him from his long sleep?

And is it so terrible of you, even after everything that has happened, that you can't regret your decision? That you can't regret that single act of waking him, even though he is clearly not the Rociel-sama you remember, even though he has set things in motion that will only lead to destruction?

You know that the other angels are afraid of him. You hear what they call him - the Insane Angel - in furtive whispers when they think you are not aware.

You know that you are selfish. You know that you are a monster, even more so than the one he made of you. You are reconciled to that. You've made your choice when you realized that you could not have left with Tiara. You could never have left Rociel-sama alone.

And so you stand aside and watch as he takes heaven apart piece by piece. He manipulates people and events around him as a child would play with shiny new toys. You watch as he plays mind games with Sevotharte, self-appointed dictator of heaven, and slowly drives him mad. Or drives him to the truth of what he is. Truth often equals madness, and you know that Rociel-sama knows this. When he releases Sandalphon, you want to shout, "No! That's a monster! Do you know what you're doing?" But you don't, because it's not your place.

You are all monstrous, anyway, you and Sevotharte and Sandalphon and everything in heaven, but to Rociel-sama, you are just puppets. He has said as much to you, once. _We are all puppets, Katan, but who controls my strings?_

You find it much harder to forgive yourself when he takes himself apart, piece by piece, and you can do nothing but watch, either. You want to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he looks at you, _you_, not Mudou Setsuna. But you know it isn't Setsuna that he sees, it's Alexiel, and your conscience whispers to you that Alexiel imprisoned him in the earth; _you_ woke him to this nightmare.

And when he clutches at you with hands clawed and shaking, and asks you, "Katan, am I beautiful?", you tell him what he needs to hear, and all the while you are drowning, drowning in his pain and in yours because you can never find the words to say all the things you want to say to him, everything that has been inside you ever since you first met him all those millennia ago.

You know that you and Sandalphon and the Creator and everything else in heaven are monstrous, but when you look at Rociel-sama, you still see nothing but light.

_-the end-  
_

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_Note - I read Angel Sanctuary a few years ago, so if there are any odd or anachronistic elements in this fic, that's the reason. Um, just suspend your disbelief?_


End file.
